


not in that way

by penalteaze



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Heartbreak, I actually feel sorry for writing this haha, I'm a horrible person and like to make my characters suffer, M/M, Sad, Seriously: It's sad, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9860162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penalteaze/pseuds/penalteaze
Summary: love is a nasty feeling, it gives you hope when there shouldn’t be any.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I found parts of this in my drafts yesterday and decided I wanted to finish it. This is my first story on here and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> English isn't my native language so I hope you'll be able to overlook some minor mistakes.

It starts the first time they meet. Eric just doesn’t perceive it as what it is yet. He simply likes Dele.

 

x

 

“Hi, I’m Dele,” Poch’s newest acquisition introduces himself. He’s tall and skinny and his smile is already starting to knock Eric off of his feet.

 

“Eric,” he says, taking the outstretched hand and shaking it firmly, “nice to meet you.”

 

The boy who’s standing in front of him grins, but Eric can sense he’s feeling uncomfortable. He understands it, it took him weeks to finally start opening up to the others. Everything was new, even the language in a way.

 

He wants it to be a smoother transition for Dele, he cares about the boy. Why, he doesn’t know.

 

They click instantly. No weird first few weeks in their friendship.

 

x

 

It’s fun, it’s easy, it’s everything he hasn’t felt since he’s left Portugal. It feels like home, like someone has opened his heart and now all he can feel is joy.

 

“I megged you,” Dele teases him in training, seconds after he’s sneakily kicked the ball through Eric’s legs.

 

Usually Eric gets annoyed, but he can never get annoyed when Dele grins at him. He smiles and nothing else seems to matter. “Did not,” he complains nonetheless.

 

“Did too,” Dele answers and folds his arms around Eric. “Don’t be upset, Diet, happens to the best of us.”

 

Eric needs to swallow hard before he can laugh it off and swear revenge to Dele. Revenge never comes, no matter how cheeky Dele gets.

 

x

 

It runs like a clockwork, everything works. His season is better than anyone could have expected. He plays with ease and joy, he plays alongside Dele.

 

Dele scores against Leicester and then against Aston Villa. Eric runs towards him, throws his arms around his neck. Two beating hearts, separated only by the thin fabric of the jersey.

 

They hold onto each other a bit longer than they should.

 

x

 

It takes Eric months to realize that what he’s feeling isn’t normal, isn’t friendship.

 

The season is in full swing. Life is “going from one game to the other”, there’s no time to ponder on feelings.

 

When he does realize it, it’s like his whole world has changed.

 

He doesn’t know if it’s just Dele or boys in general that make his heart beat faster.

He does know however that it isn’t his girlfriend anymore. He still loves her, Maria is his best friend, but he doesn’t feel about her like he does about Dele. Never has.

 

x

 

“I’ve met someone,” Dele proudly announces in April, “a girl.”

 

“What?” Eric replies, questioning the pang of jealousy that’s filled his body as soon as the words left Dele’s mouth.

 

“She’s a model, her name is Ruby,” Dele continues.

 

Eric decides right then and there that he can’t stand Ruby. Then he’s mad at himself because he doesn’t even know her. If she makes Dele happy he has to be okay with it. He has a girlfriend himself, he has no right to be unhappy about this.

 

He fears that things will get different now, that Ruby will change everything. She doesn’t, she never could.

 

x

 

The end of the season is pure disappointment. It hurts, knowing that you’ve come so close and fucked it up. _Same old Tottenham, always losing._

 

But Dele is there and they spend the time after the Chelsea loss together. It helps.

 

Sometimes Dele takes his hand and presses it softly and then Eric forgets how to breathe. Sometimes he falls asleep on the sofa and Eric watches him until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. Sometimes he wants to kiss Dele, lick away the milk froth from his top lip, hold him tightly when he looks sad. He never does.

 

 _Not yet_ , he tells himself, _after the summer maybe_.

 

x

 

After the final whistle blows there’s nothing but regret in Eric’s heart, regret and shame seem to be the only two feelings left in his body. Humiliating. The media will slaughter them.

 

He sees Dele further down the pitch, sees him on the ground and curses Iceland, not because they lost but because they are the reason for Dele’s sadness.

 

Later that night Eric knocks on Dele’s door, he knows Ruby will be gone by now. Dele opens the door and doesn’t smile like he usually does when he sees Eric, just steps aside to let him in.

 

They hold each other all night, talk about the match, try to comprehend what has happened. At some point Dele falls asleep, Eric doesn’t.

 

 _Not yet_ , he tells himself, _soon_.

 

x

 

Eric tells Dele about Maria a few weeks into the season. It’s September and still warm outside.

 

“I broke up with Maria,” he says. He is sad about it, sad because he feels like he’s disappointed someone, himself most of all. Once he had thought he’d marry her, now he’s given in to feelings he shouldn’t feel.

 

Dele looks at him in surprise. “Oh mate, I’m sorry. Why?” He moves forward to hug him, but Eric pulls away. It feels wrong to let Dele touch him when he’s the reason.

It’s always Dele in a way, always has been, from the day they first met.

 

“Didn’t work out anymore, we just grew apart,” Eric explains. “Five years…” he lets that statement linger. Five years ended by a cute brown-eyed boy whom Eric loves.

“She’ll move back to Portugal.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, will be,” Eric states though he isn’t sure he’ll be okay. “I moved out until she’s packed her stuff up, live with Fran for a week or so.”

 

“You could come to mine if you’d like, you know you don’t bother me,” Dele proposes and Eric is willing to accept the offer, then he decides against it.

 

x

 

Eric feels alone a lot in the next few months. He misses her although he didn’t love her anymore, not in that way at least.

 

He comes home to an empty house nowadays, no one misses him when he’s gone. Sometimes he regrets it all, thinks about how it could be if he’d have stayed with her. But that wouldn’t have been fair, he knows it.

 

He’s done the right thing, but the right thing doesn’t always feel right.

 

x

 

It’s December and Eric still hasn’t said a thing, has wallowed in self-pity and loneliness instead.

 

His season isn’t going how he wants it to. He doesn’t play in midfield anymore, doesn’t play alongside Dele. Dele still scores goals and Eric still comes running to celebrate with him, clings onto his friend, but it’s different.

 

He finds himself on the bench more often now and he can’t stop a cynical grin from flashing over his face. Useless he’s watching the game from the sidelines, what a fitting metaphor for his life.

 

“Ruby moves in next weekend,” Dele announces casually over lunch.

 

Eric clears his throat, tries to find the right words and tries to sound indifferent if not happy for his friend. “Amazing, I’m happy for the two of you.” He isn’t.

 

“Thank you,” Dele says, oblivious to what’s going on in Eric’s head. “Maybe Harry will join us, he needs a break, stuff hasn’t worked out for him lately.”

 

That’s when Eric loses it, only on the inside though. Harry who is like a brother to Dele, Harry who is Dele’s best friend, Harry who’s never done a thing for Dele but lived off his fame. Eric knows he’s unfair, knows that he might’ve never met Dele if it wasn’t for Harry and his family.

 

Harry might be an even bigger blow than Ruby.

 

x

 

It’s in April when Eric can’t hold it back anymore, endless sleepless nights, tossing and turning and he’s still not one step further. Fear has been paralysing him.

 

He knows it’s a mistake as soon as his lips meet Dele’s. He knows he should’ve been stronger, should’ve contained his feelings better, but he just can’t do it anymore. He doesn’t know when, but at one point it became too hard to keep on neglecting that he loves Dele.

 

He sees him in training every day and it hurts, hurts, hurts. It has to stop.

 

It happens when they’re cooking dinner at his, Dele is watching and Eric is cooking because everyone knows Dele can’t cook. But he hands Eric the ingredients and the wooden spoon and he grins that grin and giggles when Eric tells a joke and nudges his side to distract him from cooking and all of a sudden it is just too much. 

Eric puts down the spoon he’s been holding and steps towards Dele and before he can change his mind again he softly takes Dele’s face into his hands and closes the distance between their lips.

Dele is warm and soft and smells good and Eric knows that this is what he wants to do forever.

 

Dele doesn’t kiss him back.

 

Dele doesn’t push him away.

 

Dele waits until Eric backs away.

 

Eric turns around and wants to punch himself in the face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

 

When Dele has recovered from his shock he steps towards Eric. He presses his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, it’s alright, I’m not mad.”

 

Eric bites his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. He wants to turn around, but he can’t look at Dele. “It’s not okay… I meant to do it, kiss you. I’m sorry, I-” he loses himself in his thoughts.

 

“You’re gay.” A statement, not a question. Softly spoken into the silence.

 

Eric doesn’t answer.

 

“Hey, that’s cool, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

“I’m not gay,” Eric denies as he turns around. Truth is, he doesn’t know what or who he is anymore. “I mean… I’m not sure.”

 

“You don’t have to be sure,” Dele comforts him. If only he wouldn’t be so damn understanding, if only he wouldn’t be all he ever wanted and everything he cannot have.

 

“I-” he stops himself when he looks into Dele’s eyes, warm brown eyes that look at him friendly and caringly, but not lovingly.

 

“I love you, Eric, but not in that way,” his friend says. It’s the finality in that statement that hurts him more than any injury ever has. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

 

“It’s fine, I understand.”

 

It isn’t fine, but he still understands. _Not in that way, not in that way._

 

x

 

He stays away from Dele for the next few weeks. It’s better that way.

 

Dele tries to call him, he doesn’t answer. He tries to talk to him, but Eric finds excuses.

 

_Not now, please. Later, later._

 

x

 

It’s not the same anymore. Nothing is the same. Eric goes to a nightclub sometimes. Then he kisses boys and imagines they are Dele.

 

When he wakes up in stranger’s beds he thinks of the friend he’s lost.

 

They don’t talk anymore, not like they used to do. In the end it wasn’t a girl that destroyed it all, it was him. He’s to blame and he can never forget it, every day he is reminded of it. Every day he sees Dele.

 

x

 

“She broke up with me, she’s found someone else,” Dele tells him over the phone.

 

Eric feels better by now, it still hurts, knowing that the boy he loves doesn’t love him back, but they talk again and they laugh again. It’s different, but it’s starting to be okay. It’s different, but Eric is still the first person Dele calls.

 

“I’m sorry, Dele. I’m so sorry for you.” But is he really?

 

“Can you come, please, I need you, Eric.”

 

Love is a nasty feeling, it gives you hope when there shouldn’t be any.

 

Dele kisses Eric that night. He’s drunk and he’s sad. He does it because he wants to feel loved, at least Eric thinks that’s why.

 

Still, Dele kisses him and Eric’s heart explodes. They sit on the sofa and talk about life and Eric is rubbing Dele’s back and tries to ignore the pain he feels when he sees Dele crying over someone else. And then Dele straddles him and presses his lips onto his and runs his tongue over Eric’s bottom lip and Eric knows this is wrong and knows this will hurt, but he pulls Dele closer and holds him tightly and kisses him back. The kiss tastes salty, Dele’s cheeks are burning hot and sticky from tears and Eric doesn’t mind. They kiss forever, Dele doesn’t pull away this time.

 

Eric memorises every second of it, because he knows the dream will be over tomorrow. Tomorrow Dele will push him away again, but not tonight. Tonight Dele is his and that is all that matters.

 

x

 

He’s right, the next morning the dream does end and it hurts more than he expected it to.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

 

Eric doesn’t answer. What is there to say?

 

“You know I like you Eric, but not in that way. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it considering-”

 

“It’s okay, it’s fine, I understand.” It’s always fine, always okay, because he loves him.

Love is a funny thing sometimes.

 

x

 

It’s fine until it isn’t fine anymore.

 

The realisation hits him in summer. The sun is out and his neighbours are having a barbecue and Eric is sitting in his garden and holds his chest, trying to keep himself from falling apart.

 

He tells Dele a week later. Tells him that he has to leave, that it can’t carry on like this.

 

“I can’t do this anymore. I know I’m letting you down, Dele, I’m sorry.” He’s letting everyone down, his fans, his friends, the club, but it’s not a choice anymore. He’s running away.

 

Dele looks desperate but not surprised, it’s been coming. It’s been coming since the day they first met. “Don’t leave me, I love you, Eric.”

 

“ _But not in that way._ ” It’s still hard to say it out loud.

 

He feels free afterwards, feels like the weight he’s been carrying for three years is finally gone. And it hurts, hurts, hurts, but it’s good pain. The pain that tells you you’ll come out of this stronger.

 

He still loves the brown-eyed boy and the brown-eyed boy still doesn’t love him back.

 

x

 

He moves to a new club that summer and it hurts, but it hurts in the good way, the way that tells you that you’re finally moving on.

 

In the end he feels free.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this it would make me very happy if you could leave a kudos and a comment. Thank you :)
> 
> Come visit me on [Tumblr](http://penalteaze.tumblr.com/).


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